


and end it like lovers do.

by semilunars



Category: Sdorica (Video Games)
Genre: (crushfang voice) Don't Ask., Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Porn, Beta Read, But also, First Time, Grief Sex, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I will face Charle and walk backwards into Dracontine territory, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Life-Affirming Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Trans Male Character, Unhappy Ending, baby's first explicit fic, i blame discord, lowkey awkward sex, remember when i first tagged this as light angst in the drafts? i was wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semilunars/pseuds/semilunars
Summary: Elio Ceres was not one for mistakes, but by Vendacti, was he a victim to emotion.
Relationships: Clark Shot/Elio Ceres
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	and end it like lovers do.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lazysoulhymn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazysoulhymn/gifts), [BananaSins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaSins/gifts).



> i honestly don't know what else drove me into doing this other than discord idea pitching and the thirst for angst to be honest

Elio Ceres was not supposed to be one for mistakes.

He’s not the type to fancy being the center of attention either, let alone being of too much disturbance. He would attend his classes, train himself when it came to Life Magic, read up on things, and grow closer to securing a true sense of self. Simple as that.

If he had to be honest about what was crammed into that pretty little head of his, he’d admit that he doesn’t know much of the world other than what he’s witnessed on Whistlewood Valley’s pathways, and within Rune Academy’s walls. But every true genius is bound to be naïve… at least, that’s what the bards say.

Nevertheless, he was a source of pride and joy for both Dean Dietrich and Headmaster Ceres. Whether it’s merely according to word of mouth or not.

He couldn’t afford to make a single misstep. Especially now that he’s made just about enough to cross the line.

He rinsed himself one last time. The contemplation came to a temporary halt.

With a sigh, the demihuman finished his bath and went to dry himself. No amount of cleansing can undo all those mishaps. And after the night, the fact remained standing.

For he eventually found himself doing so, anyway.

He wasn’t the only one who wished to be able to undo things. In fact, this was why Clark asked him to come over for a helping hand in the first place.

Maria— the robot companion he made long before the demihuman set foot on the Desert Kingdom. Ever since Clark found her, the two became nearly inseparable, even when they joined the quest to rescue him and put an end to Devious’ plans. But like with all things, her loyalty to him came at a price.

And she was the tip of the iceberg.

Misa— the so-called “Holy Maiden”. Alas, the little girl had fallen for Devious’ trap, and it would’ve taken more than a genuine miracle for her to have made it out unscathed. A young demihuman found her body, saying that she was already gone when he found her, but the telltale stain on his blade suggested that he was forced to put her out of her misery.

Joan— the self-proclaimed “Thief of the Gleaming Star”. After rescuing her master, she retreated from the Casino. Clark didn’t hold it against her; in fact… everyone was surprised when she crossed paths with Sophie and decided to create the “greatest heist of all time”. In the end, the young star fell hard, albeit not without a noble exit. It was Sione who reported about her passing… a curious detail, to say the least.

Sanchez— Rune’s fellow former slave. His desperation for a better life morphed into a desire to set things right. And while he did…

While everyone tried… not everyone made it to the end of the Blood Road.

Being engulfed in the bright lights, alluring scents, and energetic noises wasn’t enough to wash away the pain and disbelief of it all. Elio knew that all too well, and knowing that the brunet felt the same thing… it stirred up a lot of emotion within him.

Even the ones from the past, ones he felt for Clark that he believed to be mere phases and illusion, nearly forgotten by time once he left Rune Academy. But after every trial and tribulation they’ve braved, perhaps those emotions weren’t an illusion after all. Just repressed, is all.

Elio was so lost, and all he could do was lend Clark an ear.

Soon he found himself holding the brunet in a consoling embrace. Whether it was a by-product of what once was and what was still there, or that of mutual grief, or simple impulse-- common sense, even, he couldn’t tell.

But an embrace was an embrace, and Clark leaned into it as he wept.

And then he spoke again.

“Elio.”

The brunet’s voice was a soft, pleading whisper.

“Stay.”

Why stay? All he did was help with organizing Clark’s workspace and gathering materials for repairing Maria, not to mention lend him an ear. He’s done all he could.

“I know it’s too much to ask of you, but… I’d like it if you could spend the night with me.”

He blinked— should… should he? It’s not that he wasn’t allowed to. His fathers did allow him to stay the night if absolutely necessary, provided he kept that one-time teleportation Rune scroll for emergencies. Projects like trying to repair Maria weren’t easy work; they were aware of that. Regardless, this isn’t the day for them— especially Elio— to act so selfishly, and yet…

The demihuman shifted as he continued to hold Clark in that consoling embrace, a slight smile on his face. “…of course.” _Of course._ _Anything._

And then he heard Clark’s next request.

“…lock the door.”

It was almost a week or two since their untimely reunion, but… the yearning. They couldn’t stop it from rising. From _suffocating._

The lights were turned off. All that was left was the moonlight filtered through the window, making Elio look more enchanting than ever.

Those blue tinted orbs, with a hint of pink, shining like gems.

His silver locks, appearing to be as soft as silk.

His skin, fair and nearly flawless thanks to healing magic… what would it be like to run his hands through it? To cup his face with his hand? To kiss those lips?

“…Clark?”

The sight of the demihuman sporting a light blush on the cheeks, with slightly parted… it never got old for the brunet. If Clark claimed that he didn’t question his view of him, he would be lying to himself.

His thumb came across Elio’s lower lip, and he stammered.

“M-May I?”

_…oh._

Elio’s cheeks grew into a bright crimson as he realized what Clark was asking of him.

He could see the seriousness in Clark’s own eyes, especially with his glasses off. The demihuman found himself pulled in, hypnotized, wishing he could keep those hibiscus red orbs locked at him. The attention being given to him. The sense of being charmed, and charming in return.

He slightly nodded. “Though… I’ve never—”

The brunet could only sigh and mutter a small _“doesn’t matter”_ before he pulled Elio in for a kiss.

How would Elio put the sensation into words? It didn’t matter if he never kissed anyone before; he was dazed, as if the scent of vanilla and jasmine tonics from the market conquered his senses all over again. The way Clark placed his hands down the small of the demihuman’s back and reeled him further in was pure bliss, if sighing into the kiss and holding on to Clark for dear life was any proof.

Once both of them decided to break away for air, Elio found himself leaning into Clark's hand, which gently cupped his face. That was two fantasies of the brunet’s, coming true within one night.

Clark couldn’t find the words to properly respond with, while Elio softly laughed, akin to chimes blown by the gentle summer wind.

With Elio asking if they should try again, it was safe to say that both of them were as good as smitten.

Clark simply sat there, gawking— _he liked the kiss._ No. He _loved_ it? By the Sun, the demihuman just keeps catching him off guard sometimes.

“You… and you’d be fine with that?”

“I already told you before, didn’t I? I’ll return the favors I’d ask of you.”

Elio then leaned closer— voice now hushed and softly gracing Clark’s ears, assenting yet needy at the same time.

“That is, if you’ll let me.”

Soon, they were showering each other with more kisses, each one becoming more awkward but also _passionate_ than the last, without any realization that this certain night was going to be rather eventful…

The hard way.

Together, they resorted to such acts of alleviation— those of more fleeting touches and forbidden discoveries and oh, _gods,_ both of them left portions of emotional concerns and embarrassment discarded, just like their clothes… all piled up on the floor in disarray.

There they were, in the midst of their long-awaited remedy, a complete opposite from the duo who had painful truths playing in their heads, akin to broken records. Like every drag of each other's hands, lips, and tongue. Every brush of the demihuman’s hand on his hair. Every pump of Clark’s fingers; every slight and curious tug Elio made on the brunet’s now-erect cock.

The gaps between Elio’s breaths lapsed even more; he was releasing needy whines in between, and Clark hummed on his thigh in return, taking in the scent of light musk and washed-away soap. And all the demihuman could do was struggle to watch everything that Clark was doing between his legs. Gentle rubbing on his dick. Pecks being left on his thighs. Moistened fingers making their way in and out of him.

Fingers brushing a certain part within the demihuman, leaving Elio to quiver.

He’s struck gold.

Clark gently pulled his fingers out yet again, leaving more soft, teasing kisses and touches on his thighs before going back to his cock, and then sinking back in and hitting that spot again until— until those quick, little gestures awakened _something_ within the demihuman, and soon—

“ _Clark_ —!”

—the brunet could only watch wordlessly, in awe as Elio started grinding himself on the brunet’s hand, eyes screwed shut, blush heavy, grip on the sheets tightening, and gasps escaping his lips as he made the most out of his climax.

To think that some of the wildest and most taboo of his thoughts would become a reality.

_Was it enough,_ they asked in thoughts, as Clark soothed him, said he always had leeway, gave him reassurance that he wouldn’t see him any differently after everything, including _that_ — Elio was Elio, and the brunet respected that.

_Was it enough,_ they asked in thoughts, as Clark stroked his own erect member for the last few times before the tip was left to hover, barely touching the demihuman’s entrance. This… this wasn’t just Headmaster Charle’s son in his bed. This was someone close to him. And to add insult to injury, they were ill prepared for something like this. Is this really…?

_Was it enough,_ they asked in thoughts, as Elio gulped at the sight of where the brunet’s dick was and glanced away from him out of worry and embarrassment.

_Was it enough,_ they asked in thoughts, as he _insisted_ that he can live with getting this over with, and the brunet calmly told him— “Let me know if it hurts, and I’ll stop. I promise.”

It’s not enough.

Elio inhaled sharply as Clark’s cock finally, _finally_ sank into his dripping core, filling him inch by inch. And dear Sun, did it feel good inside him. The brunet needed all the restraint he could get not to lose himself to how warm, how _wet_ Elio was.

Clark’s attention shifted between his member and the demihuman, ensuring that there was no sign of pain for the latter. Their eyes met for a second, and Elio nodded in assent.

Humming contently, the brunet complied, blessing the two of them with that defining moment of his erection finally hilting itself fully inside, Clark shakily moaning as he reveled in the sensation.

Barely more than a minute had passed since Clark began to thrust, gently biting his lip as his hunger continued to get the best of him. The demihuman watched as he chased that pleasure— holding on to Elio’s hips for support, face gone rosy, lips parted and trembling, eyes half-lidded… the sight of him was far from disappointing. Elio was still recovering from drawing the short end of the stick when it comes to entertaining such urges, but that wasn’t the biggest among his concerns.

What was truly important that night was the brunet finally getting his turn.

“Oh— oh no, Elio, I—”

His tone alone sent shivers down the demihuman’s spine— _it’s happening,_ Clark’s mind screamed, _it’s really happening, they’re doing it and he’s right inside him and it feels so damn good, too good, he’ll end up coming inside Elio at this rate, he’s gonna come he’s gonna come he’sgonnacomehe’scoming—_

Clark lost all control and made a guttural noise of pure pleasure, and Elio lightly gasped as he felt a brief rush of something warm and wet inside him.

He found himself collapsed on his side, with the demihuman watching after him, on his side as well. Clark’s eyes soon regained their focus, and Elio stared into them, full of… love. And the brunet stared back with admiration.

…And disbelief.

And then Clark remembered.

“Cripes— Elio, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t supposed to—”

But his words were drowned by a numbing wave of thoughts. Clark realized Elio wasn’t paying attention. Not anymore.

Because he felt the same disbelief.

Shame.

_Guilt._

A realization, finally sinking in. That gaze of his, averted.

And Elio _wept._

He found himself hiding his face from his senior, the silent downpour of tears not showing any signs of stopping.

Clark was a friend, a grieving one at that. Bestowed with emotion, just like him. Just… not a place for him to let it all overflow. That’s all there is to this little waltz, isn’t it? Regardless, to take such a precious opportunity from him was a grave crime before anything else. Perhaps not as great as treason and defiling your fathers’ once pristine names, but something worth condemning himself for all the same.

In the first place, who did Clark even _see_ as he offered those tender touches; who did he _hear_ whenever he uttered such sweet nothings?

Selfish. Oh, so terribly selfish.

Elio could be feeling any form of physical discomfort at that moment, and he still wouldn’t pin such strong feelings of disgust on that. Nay, the thing he was disgusted with the most was his own _self._

But Clark took the sight in, and he was just as devastated. His heart ached.

“Elio…?”

Did he really just do that? Was… _was it for that?_ Perhaps they shouldn’t have done it after all? That must’ve been it. How careless of him, too careless.

Clark couldn’t find the right words to apologize with. How awkward. Troublesome.

So he simply took the sheets out of his face, wiped his tears with his own hands. And he tried to shush him. _Held_ him.

The demihuman was too distraught to protest.

Silence.

Elio didn’t know how long it lasted. But there he laid, Clark gently brushing his hair, his head on the brunet’s shoulder. A complete opposite of how they were before they delved into such sweet, gentle sin.

“It’s not you, so don’t worry about me… I said I’d return the favor, didn’t I?”

_Because it_ is _you. I’m happy it was with you. I just…_

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, his own forehead now touching Clark’s. “I’ll take the precautions by tomorrow morning. Does that sound good?”

“Elio…”

“So…”

The brunet was interrupted by a soft peck on his lips.

“…once more.”

_Make love to me, once more, and don’t hold back._

That was the last straw— without any other comment, Elio found himself beckoned by Clark, the two coming to share passionate pecks and touches once more before settling down in a spooning position.

Love… he's witnessed countless schoolmates utter it for each other, and it's still so strong a word.

But it was why one more time was fine for him. Letting Clark take the lead like that, relieving their collective grief like that…

Even if he’ll never live to see the day where they both utter that powerful word for each other, even if that’s what he really wants, _needs_ … it’s whatever. It’s a fine substitute.

Starting off with slow thrusts, Clark eased himself inside the demihuman’s core little by little, hoping not to break again before he could give the latter the same amount of pleasure. It took a bit of time, but patience was a virtue that withstood anything, even the throes of bodily pleasures and vice.

And with one last move, Clark finally hilted himself, and he was rewarded.

Elio’s moan graced his ears. That now-familiar warmth grew even more snug around his member.

He didn’t break.

In fact, he did the exact opposite. However, as the demihuman spoke once again after a few moments—

“…Harder.”

Clark nearly sputtered. _Harder,_ was it? To think that he’d receive such a request from Rune Academy’s former darling… Not that he was complaining. He wasn’t in the right mindset to do so if he wanted to.

He pulled out, only to thrust back in. Elio let out _another_ shaky moan, tearing up ever so slightly.

And another.

And another.

Soon pants began to escape from the demihuman’s lips as the brunet set up a rhythm with ease, adjusting to the act until he could hit the spot that left Elio mewling. And did— did he just feel Clark caress him _there?_ He found himself on the cusp of euphoria. The feeling— _everything,_ it was _just—_

A checkmate he never expected, but he’ll take it anyway.

The demihuman was soon at the verge of begging for mercy; silent prayers ran through his pleasure-addled mind as the brunet fervently rolled his hips without a care on how he couldn’t bring himself to speak. After all, his body, his voice, his existence in their humble room alone was already an unholy yet fulfilling response to him. Their forbidden dance was better than the grim reality that greeted them.

Than realizing that Joan helping sabotage Devious’ plans would be the grand finale, the last they’ll hear from her.

Than having to read Sanchez’ and Misa’s names, the names of _victims,_ etched on freshly made gravestones.

Than Lazer’s hoof effortlessly crushing Maria.

Than Elio hearing a single gunshot in the distance long after Theodore and Karen chose to spare his life, provided he kept mum.

Yes… a forbidden dance, like mortar and pestle. It wouldn’t erase what they had seen, what they had heard, what they have to live with for the rest of their days.

Yet Clark continued to thrust inside Elio’s core, accompanied with fingers giving gentle caresses directed towards the latter’s cock.

Again.

And again.

And again.

“M- _More…_ ”

_Keep going._

It went on for a few more minutes, both of their minds starting to cloud from everything that was happening—the brunet’s cock sliding back and forth inside him just the way he likes; the sound of skin against skin; small noises rising in frequency and pitch and growing breathier.

_Please, Clark, keep going._

_…Even if it’s just this once._

Elio gave him a few light taps, and Clark retracted his hand at his call so they could adjust.

The demihuman, back on the bed, beckoned Clark to place himself on top, gently cupping his face in his hands. And in the middle of their waltz, they shared yet another kiss— more passionately this time, as if they were grateful to make it to this very moment, as if they’ll never get the chance again. Any remaining semblance of grief and hesitation has completely evaporated, joined the warmth in the room, completely replaced with _want._

_Please, Clark._

_Please._

Clark pulled away from the kiss first. He’s on fire— warm, _holy_ fire. Coursing through his veins, stirring within his loins. And it burned. Hands desperately clinging to his back, breaths hitching with every nudge, the growing wetness between Elio’s legs. It burned, all of it.

He’s engulfed in flames, and his utterances graced the demihuman’s ears once more—

“C-Close…”

—his words tipping the last of Elio’s self-control over the edge—

“M-me too… if you keep that up, _I’ll_ — a- _ah—!_ ”

—and Elio came undone once again, legs quivering, back slightly arching from the mattress.

But the fire continued to _grow,_ and Clark found no escape, thrusts growing sloppy. One hand clung onto the sheets for dear life, while Elio held the other.

“Oh— oh gods, Elio, I… a- _again,_ I—”

Clark’s eyes clamped shut, but his vision was white. White with pleasure as he erratically rode out the last of his lust, only driven by sweet whimpers leaving Elio’s lips as the brunet’s climax finally washed over.

Just like that, it finally dissipated, with both of them finally sated… sore and exhausted, but a satisfied mess nonetheless. They both basked in the afterglow— Clark’s head resting on Elio’s shoulder as they were both left to catch their breath in rasps.

The demihuman was welcomed back to reality by the sensation of Clark finally pulling out, followed by the sound of a drawer opening, him rummaging it for something, and then closing it once again.

“Er… you’ll need this.”

He regained the ability to focus, and found Clark handing him a fresh cloth. A blush swept his cheeks again when he realized what it meant.

“…Thank you.”

Clark softly hummed in return as he took the cloth and wiped himself with it.

The last thing Clark saw before finally falling asleep was a weak, flushed smile from Elio. Those cornflower blue eyes gazed with pure adoration upon the brunet’s own face, and Clark found himself thinking about the gentle gut feeling he couldn’t get himself to bring up, or understand.

And yet, his heart went aflutter.

He didn’t see him retract that smile deep into the night, contemplating once again.

Elio took his leave the next morning.

Before his departure, he and Clark made an agreement back at the inn— they shall never speak of the night to anyone, and vow never to attempt it again. It’s not something that they can keep doing, that Elio believed he can rightfully share with him. He'll take that emergency morning-after potion, and that'll be the end of it.

It was for the best for both of them, right? It wasn’t the proper time and place for Clark to process such things— and he had no right to complain, either; wasn’t he sort of the same?

So, how come the more he thought about it, the more he hurt?

Elio Ceres was not one for mistakes, but by Vendacti, was he a victim to emotion.

There may be a difference in intelligence and wisdom, but you can only be so young, so naïve, and so selfish.

His fathers’ words from that fateful day rang within his ears. _“Should you ever find yourself in any trouble, just take this scroll out. Activate what’s on it. It’ll bring you here in no time.”_

There’s no trouble at all. Perhaps there never was. It’s just that he and Clark have priorities to take care of— Clark had Maria and his research; Elio had his reunion with his fathers. The last thing he wanted was to have another person to hold back. Or maybe the trouble was Elio himself, but that agreement made sure he wouldn’t get in the way ever again.

Regardless, Elio activated the rune.

**Author's Note:**

> _that's how it goes, so take care like a grown-up  
>  life's not a fairytale, it's hard to own up  
> hire a hitman to take care of you  
> and end it [like lovers do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSvBgGC_U_g)_   
> 
> 
> -hey violet


End file.
